


no man can impress me

by TheEagleGirl



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon-ish, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 12:34:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12388170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEagleGirl/pseuds/TheEagleGirl
Summary: Meera isn’t quite sure when she started noticing Lady Sansa, just that once she had there was no going back.





	no man can impress me

**Author's Note:**

> so basically the groupchat has been scarring @meerareeed with pennywise jokes and this is my apology. Also, lemonspear is a great ship name.

Meera isn’t quite sure when she started noticing Lady Sansa, just that once she had there was no going back. Winterfell is large, much larger than Greywater Watch, but it seems that Meera cannot go more than a few hours without seeing that flash of long red hair. Meera has never been this aware of anyone before, and it unnerves her. She _admires_ Lady Sansa, she supposes. After all she’s been through, to still be the backbone of the North… Meera knows it must take a lot of strength to keep her head above the water.

It isn’t like Meera to spend so much time thinking about anyone _new_. The past few years her mind has been taken up by worry for Bran, Jojen and Hodor—but her brother and Hodor are dead, and Bran has retreated into himself. It is too painful to dwell on everything that has happened, and so Meera instead watches. She’s always been good at staying in the corners, observing the goings-on of the people around her.

Lately, she’s been watching Lady Sansa.

She’s beautiful. Much prettier than Meera. Much prettier than anyone she’s ever seen, really. Her face is a careful mask of neutrality, but sometimes Meera fancies she can see a crack or two in the façade and glimpse the _real_ Sansa.

Now is one of those times, it seems.

Meera is cleaning her spear in the yard when she spots them. Sansa first, because Meera _always_ spots Lady Sansa first, but walking at a leisurely pace behind her is Lord Baelish, whispering to her. Meera has seen them together before, usually on the battlements or in the hall. Lord Baelish’s green eyes seem to catch sight of her more often than anyone else’s, when all she wants to do is melt into the walls, unseen.

Lady Sansa stops, allows Lord Baelish to catch up with her. Her face is blank. Other than when she is with Bran, her face is always blank. But Meera’s eyes catch it, even if Lord Baelish cannot. She’s seen her own mother make that face, when a man she detests is pestering her.

Lady Sansa’s eyes roam the yard and catch on Meera’s. It is only for a moment, but that is enough. A look passed between two women can sometimes communicate more than any words could.

Meera is on her feet before she knows what she is doing.

“Lady Stark!” she calls, her breath fogging in the air. She fancies she can see a flash of relief in Sansa’s eyes. Gods, those eyes.

“Lady Meera,” Lord Baelish greets smoothly. If he is ruffled that she has interrupted, Meera cannot tell. He is charming, as ever.

“Lord Baelish,” Meera returns, inclining her head. She will not curtsey for this snake. “Lady Stark, I’d like to beg a private audience. There’s much I need to speak with you about.”

“Concerning?” Lord Baelish asks, almost under his breath.

Meera searches her brain. “Concerning…well…”

“Matters concerning her father, Lord Howland Reed,” Lady Sansa says. “He’s sent a raven, hasn’t he?” Meera nods, hoping her face gives nothing away. No raven could make it through this frost. Lord Baelish’s eyes narrow.

“Yes, my lady. May we converse privately?”

“Yes,” Lady Sansa says. Turning to Lord Baelish, she offers a stiff smile. “Do excuse me, Lord Baelish. Lady Meera and I have much to discuss. We shall take up this discussion at a later time.”

Meera keeps a quiet until they have rounded the corner. She tries to keep her voice from squeaking.

“He’s quite forward with you, my lady. Should he be around you without your guards close by?”

Sansa sighs, and Meera sees how tired she is. _Poor girl,_ she thinks. Preparing the North against the coming winter will be a thankless task.

“He should not,” she says, smiling wryly at Meera. Her chest heats, and she hopes the color does not move to her face. “But Lord Baelish has a gift for ferreting his way past my guards. He seems to only be afraid of Lady Brienne, but she is indisposed this morning. Funny, how he seems to not fear the men who guard me, only the women.”

Meera shrugs, an inelegant gesture she winces at the moment she makes it. “Save Brienne, your guards are not that impressive.”

Lady Sansa raises a brow. Gods, she’s said it all wrong. Meera bites her lip. “I don’t mean they’re not able—just, I’ve never looked at a man and been impressed.”

Lady Sansa is staring at Meera incredulously. Meera’s face _does_ heat then, and she wishes there was an Other she could fight instead of wait for a response.

Instead of turning away, though, Lady Sansa breaks into a smile. It’s small, and almost shy. It doesn’t fit the picture of the cold, efficient Lady Stark that Meera’s been desperately trying to build in her mind. “I wish I could say the same,” she says. “My life would have been much easier if I’d been a bit less impressed with men.”

Meera grins back, her first true smile in too long. It seems to encourage Lady Sansa, who steps forward and clasps Meera’s hand.

“Thank you,” she says. “For stepping in. I can handle Littlefinger alone, but sometimes it truly is a relief to know I do not always have to.”

Before Meera can respond, Sansa steps forward and presses a kiss to her cheek. Meera is frozen, though her entire body seems flooded with warmth.

Too soon, Lady Sansa steps away, her own cheeks pink from the cold. She’s _lovely_ , Meera thinks dizzily.

“Shall I see you at supper tonight?” Sansa asks. “In my solar? With Bran?”

Meera nods feebly. She cannot manage language…not yet.

Sansa’s parting smile is enough to make Meera’s blood _boil_ with want.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review!!!! I love reviews, and this fic was incredibly fun to write.


End file.
